


Círdan's Dream

by Sunset_Queen



Series: The Adventures of the Mithlond Space Fleet [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Astral Bullshit, Dream Sequence, Gen, Platonic M/M kiss, Prologue to the real story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunset_Queen/pseuds/Sunset_Queen
Summary: Círdan has a dream. A dream of astral wonders beyond the farthest limits of her imagination





	Círdan's Dream

Círdan’s Dream  
By Peridot Ériu  
The first in the adventures of the Mithlond Space Fleet  
Círdan - Nówë, you know, Nos nos Nos, once had a dream. She dreamed of a universe where negative energies and influences were banished to the far reaches of the astral which she inhabits, to the most distant of distant astral galaxies where they would harm no being in the multiverse. Círdan dreamed of a universe of commerce and culture, a place where the furthest wonders of distant stars were visible to all. Círdan dreamed of harmony. Círdan dreamed that no longer would anyone be deprived of either the basic nor the higher necessities of life, that the only limitation to a being’s highest potential as a creator would be spacetime itself. Moreover, Círdan dreamed that the world would flourish anew, both Ëa - the Middle Earth Cirdan knew and loved - and all the worlds of the astral that surrounded her. For the changes were coming, and with the spaceport of Mithlond fully constructed, a new Golden Age of the Astral awaited Ëa and all the astral realms.

Círdan awoke with a start that night. Five words echoed through her head as a pounding headache - foreign to an Elven soul like hers, rocked through her skull at the same rhythm as the words themselves. Archangel’s fire and Demiurge’s ichor, Archangel’s fire and Demiurge’s ichor, _Archangel’s fire and Demiurge’s ichor_. What in Eru’s name was an archangel, and how did this relate to her dream? She scrambled to write the words down - she knew what a Demiurge was - Eru, the very god she swore by, was an archetypal demiurge - but by God(s), the word Archangel was so foreign to her. Then she had an insight.

A vision appeared to Círdan of ten thousand ships of rainbow light setting forth from the Mithlond spaceport that was unveiled the night prior and sailing the vast astral galaxies of the Creation Worlds and beyond. A voice in the back of her head spoke clearly to her, clearer than any voice she had ever heard in her life. 

“Listen, Lady Círdan. This is a vision of but one possible future. Seize it while it lasts-”

“GAHH!” yelled Círdan- “YOU’RE IN MY MIND FUZZ CAN’T YOU AT LEAST NOT MISGENDER ME!”

The figure spoke calmly to the irritated Elf-Prince. “Ahh, pardon me. I have this bad habit of assuming she/her always matches up with feminine language and he/him with masculine language. I really need to work on it. My apologies. Anyways, this is but one possibility of the future. It is the best possibility that I can see, with my truesight. Build this spacefleet, to protect the weak and needy from the strong and greedy. To fight back the forces of evil that have overwhelmed us so long. And to see the furthest wonders beyond your imagination, nor that of anyone on your fair Middle-Earth. Heed my call. I am the Archangel Michael, and this is my fire, that I breathe into you. I must away for a time - Fare thee well, Prince Círdan.” Archangel Michael kissed Círdan gently on the lips, and then vanished into thin air. Círdan turned to find her body laying there on the bed, motionless alike a corpse and then awoke once more with a start.

Later that morning, Círdan found she could melt Aetherium with her breath and a bit of focus.


End file.
